Foreseeing Fate
by Moey
Summary: Ever wonder about Sybil Trelawney's first accurate prediction?
1. Prologue: First Sight

**Foreseeing Fate**

**A Harry Potter Fanfiction   
by ****Moey**

Originally archived at The Sugar Quill

~*~*~*~

Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling. Who would want it any other way?

Dedication: To the girlfriends I always wished for. Wishes really do come true.

~*~*~*~

**Prologue: First Sight**

_The future is the worst thing about the present. - Gustave Flaubert_

"I have called this meeting to speak with you all about the tragic event that took place yesterday. As you know, a student here at Hogwarts was found dead in the second floor girl's lavatory." The Headmaster was standing at the front of the classroom, hands clasped behind his back; a tired, worried expression on his face.

"Is it true what they are saying, Professor?" one of the students interrupted. She wore the plain black Hogwarts robes with the Head Girl badge pinned to the breast. "Has the Chamber of Secrets really been opened?" 

What little color remained in Dippet's face quickly vanished. "Minerva, as Head Girl, you know better than to listen to idle rumors. I need all of you prefects," he continued, looking out at the young men and women seated before him, "to help in this matter." His tone was grave. "We need to watch over the younger students until we know that the danger - whatever it may be - has passed. As prefects, I expect you all to help keep such gossip at a minimum." 

"I know Professor, but it's just-" she began but the words caught in her throat and tears were welling up in her eyes. "It's just, I mean Myrtle is--" she sobbed. Minerva lost all composure she had been maintaining and broke down.

It was Albus Dumbledore, the Transfiguration professor, who went over to console her. Placing an arm around her shoulder he spoke, "I know my dear. It is a very hard and emotional time for all of us." His voice was gentle and caring. "What Professor Dippet was trying to say is that we must remain calm if we are to keep the board from closing the school. We all must remain calm." Dumbledore looked around at the other prefects seated in the classroom. All had identical looks of apprehension and fear on their faces. All, that is, but two. 

One sixth year Slytherin, Dumbledore thought, had a look of _trying_ to appear worried. It was a peculiar expression. Looking at the boy's eyes, a shiver ran down Dumbledore's spine. There was something wrong there, something missing from those eyes. 

The other student, a sixth year Gryffindor girl, just looked ill, and at that exact moment he found out why. Quite suddenly, her head flopped backwards on her neck and her eyes rolled back into their sockets. Her hands were clawing at the desktop; her knuckles turning white. Then, slowly and almost menacingly, she raised her head forward and immediately her whole demeanor and attitude changed. As she spoke, the words coming out of her mouth seemed almost removed, distant. Her voice took on an odd tenor as if someone else were speaking through her.

"With the serpent has come fear and death, but know that this is only the end of the beginning. For soon, a darkness will creep over the land." The room was silent, all eyes on the girl "Fear and death will reign until the coming of two. From the lion will come the bearer of the light. He shall seek the other and prepare the way. From the guardians shall come the keeper. He holds the key to unite the worlds. Only after blood fills the land, shall the two bring peace."

With that, she collapsed. Several of the students rushed over to her with cries of, "Sybil! Are you all right? What were you saying?" Minerva, still recovering from her unusual emotional outburst, was looking toward the gathering of her classmates not really understanding what had just happened. Dumbledore just stood there looking at the other sixth year student he had noticed before. He could have sworn the boy wore some sort of smirk.

Professor Dippet gave his final instructions to the Prefects and then escorted Sybil to the hospital wing. Dumbledore sat in the empty classroom, immediately extracting a quill and parchment from his desk. Quickly, he wrote down the words that the young girl had spoken. He was quite sure that they would be very important in the future. 

But he wasn't the only one to do this. Young Tom Riddle, the sixth year Dumbledore had been watching with heightened curiosity, went straight back to his dormitory in Slytherin House and copied the same words into his diary.

~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter One: Out of Sight

**Foreseeing Fate**

**A Harry Potter Fanfiction   
by ****Moey**

Originally archived at The Sugar Quill

~*~*~*~

Author's Note: Thanks to Arabella, BBennett, Cap'n Kathy, Jedi Boadicea, and Zsenya for reading this chapter at least 87 times each before I got around to finishing it. You guys ROX.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling. Who would want it any other way?

~*~*~*~

**Chapter One: Out of Sight**

_He's as blind as he can be   
Just sees what he wants to see  
Nowhere man can you see me at all?_

_~Nowhere Man  
Lennon/McCartney_

He placed the stone basin on the table and sat down. Arms crossed and leaning on the table, he sat staring at it for sometime before picking up his wand. Taking a deep breath and pushing his glasses back up his nose, he prodded the silvery strands with his wand tip 

"Do you remember your first day in this office? How nervous you were?" He was looking around the room, and holding her hand as he spoke, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb. They sat in her office in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. She was visibly shaken, and it seemed that he was attempting to calm her down.

"I was very nervous." She was looking at him, a weak smile on her face. His normally twinkling eyes looked sad and tired. 

"Well, there was no reason for it. It's wasn't as if you hadn't worked in years," he said. "I do recall that aside from your research and published writings over the years, you managed to raise seven magnificent children as well as five outstanding grandchildren. If that isn't work, then I don't know what is." 

"That was the same year you became Headmaster. Arrogant you were, even making your own wife call you Headmaster!" Her smile grew a bit, but only for a second.

"If I recall correctly, you started the entire chain of events by insisting that I call you Madam Pomfrey." Some of the twinkle came back into his blue eyes. 

"For purely professional reasons," she stated. "Besides, we had to set an example for the children." 

"That we did, my dear. As it stands now, I don't even think our staff remember that we are married." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

But it was obvious from the look on her face that Poppy could not hold onto the lightheartedness. "I just don't know if I can do it anymore, Albus." 

"You will, Poppy, because this is what you do. You heal."

They sat in silence for an indefinable amount of time before she finally spoke. "Do you think that the--" but she didn't get to finish. 

Albus answered simply, "Yes."

"I can't say that I ever set much stock in the psychic arts until now." She frowned. "What do we do now?"

"We can strategically defend ourselves with the information we have." 

"It's just --those poor boys. And, Albus, this isn't the end." She had tears in her eyes. "It brings too many painful memories to the surface."

"Memories are our only links to the past. They help us to deal with the future."

"Please, I cannot stand to hear any more of your wisdom today!" she almost yelled. "A student is dead, and another is suffering an even worse fate!"

"Poppy, I am sorry. It is just that there is nothing we can do about that now. We have to move forward." He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb and encircled her with his arms. 

"Events are unfolding," he continued, "and we must ready ourselves. We have to prepare the children for what is to come. That is why we are here."

"I know, and I am ready," she sighed. "It's just that" she paused and looked up at him, "I can heal the physical ailments, but it's the mental ones that I'm most worried about. Those I can't heal with a potion or a flick of my wand." With these last words, she glanced toward the door, which was slightly ajar. Through the gap could be seen a hospital bed where a small, dark-haired boy was sleeping. There were several people sitting at his bedside. All of them looked anxious. 

"Only time will heal that, Poppy." He was looking out the door as well. "Time mixed with something he has already found." She nodded in agreement, and together they watched the gathering of people around the young boy's bed. 

Suddenly voices and footsteps could be heard coming from the corridor. They were making their way into the ward.

"Where's Dumbledore?" one of them demanded.

Looking at Poppy he said, "My cue." She squeezed his hand and gave him a small peck on the cheek. He then turned around and swept out of the office into the ward

Back at the table he sat with his head in his hands. His unruly black hair sticking out between clenched fingers. The stone basin sat forgotten, its silvery contents still swirling.

~*~*~*~

"She needs to stop setting a place for him like he's going to show up."

"It makes her feel better. Besides, he could show. He knows the rule."

"He won't."

"What makes you so certain? Did you see it in your morning tea?"

"Ha ha. I just know, all right? Look, no one wants to see him more than I do. He's a right prat for making us all worry like this. But he won't show. Not suddenly and out of the blue. You and I haven't even heard from him in over six months, let alone seen him. If he can't talk to either of us, if he can't even send us an owl to let us know he's alive, he's certainly not coming to Sunday dinner at the Burrow."

"Well, just don't say anything to your mum, okay? If she wants to set a place for him, let her. There's no harm in it."

"But Ginny—"

"Ginny knows. We've had countless conversations. Besides, she's a strong girl and you boys don't give her enough credit."

"I just worry she'll get her hopes up. I _swear_, when I do see Harry Potter again, I'm going to let him have it."

"No you won't."

"You're right, I won't. I just wish he would come home."

"So do I."

"I'm really worried."

"Me too, Ron. Me too."

~*~*~*~

Since the war, Molly and Arthur had only one rule: Any Weasley within Apparating distance must report to the Burrow for Sunday dinner. It didn't just include those with red hair either. Hermione and Harry were Weasleys in everything but name. Remus and Sirius often joined them as well as the twins' girlfriends and various other family friends in the area. Molly always made enough food to feed a small army, so there was always enough to go around.

Ron and Hermione - if she wasn't already there - always arrived early to spend the day with the family. Arthur would wait for Ron and the two would immediately head out to his garage. Hermione and Ginny would often try retreating to Ginny's room or sit outside in the garden to avoid Molly's barrage of questions, the first of which was always, "Have you any word, dear?"

For the last six months, Hermione's answer had always been the same. "No."

After the war Harry had become more and more distant and his appearances at the Sunday dinners became less frequent. He hardly ever came home to the flat he shared with Ron. Eventually he stopped coming home at all. No one had seen hide nor hair of Harry Potter for over six months. Not Hermione or Ron. Not Ginny or the rest of the Weasleys. Not even Sirius. While Hedwig and Pig were consistently sent with letters and packages, they always came back without anything in return.

Sometimes Hermione thought she understood him. Terrible things had happened and it was a very natural reaction to withdraw. But then she just ended up being annoyed. Terrible things had happened to _everyone_ - not just Harry Potter. There were people here who loved him. This was his family and he had abandoned them, deciding instead to do battle with his personal demons alone. He had defeated the Dark Lord, but now he was running. Running from the one person who-

"Hermione. You still with us?" Ginny interrupted her thoughts. 

"Hmm? Yes, sorry," she said, looking up at Ginny.

"Mum just asked you to go get Ron and Dad. Supper's ready."

"Oh, sure. But if I'm not back in five minutes, send out backup." Molly and Ginny laughed.

She walked out in back of the Burrow and followed the path that led to Arthur's garage. She stopped short of entering when she heard the voices inside. It wasn't always safe to enter Arthur's garage when he and Ron were inside without first checking. It was almost as bad as the twins' laboratory.

"It's a near impossible job, Dad. I don't see how we're going to be able to unplot one-quarter of what we had hidden before the war. We just don't have the manpower."

Hermione peeked through the window; she saw the back of the familiar redhead and her heart gave a flutter. Both Ron and Arthur were fully engrossed in not only their conversation but also the dismemberment of some piece of Muggle electronics. Upon closer inspection, Hermione saw that it was her parents' old computer, which she had just recently donated to Arthur's hobby. Grinning as she watched Ron, intent on fiddling with a circuit board, she suddenly realized how quickly Arthur's favorite pastime had become his son's. 

"I don't expect we'll be able to," Arthur said, scratching his head. He was holding the keyboard above his head and looking at it from every possible angle. "But we do need to keep the Forbidden Forest hidden from the Muggles. Too many have already wandered in there."

"Yeah, I know," Ron replied. "Lucky nothing happened a few Memory Charms couldn't fix." Picking up his wand, he took the keyboard from his father and was now magicking out each of the tiny screws from the back. "The Centaurs keep themselves hidden well enough," he said, struggling with the last screw.

Arthur laughed, "For creatures who don't care to involve themselves with us, they are raising quite a fuss. Keeping your friend, Finch-Fletchley is it? - keeping him rather busy down in the Centaur Office." Arthur and Ron shared a grin. Hermione stifled a laugh. Up until this year, no one had actually _worked_ in the Centaur Office for centuries, its name having become synonymous with termination at the Ministry. 

"Yeah, every time I see Justin, he looks like bloody hell." Hermione cringed at Ron's language. Arthur, however, was unfazed, and continued to examine a plug from the computer. "Running him ragged, they are." Ron paused, pried at something on the keyboard, then continued. "It's not the Centaurs I'm worried about. Like I said, they keep themselves hidden well enough." He grunted. "Especially from Muggles." He was now pounding on the handle of his wand, which he had wedged into the middle of the keys on the keyboard. 

"You're going to break your wand. Here, use this," Arthur said, handing him a screwdriver. He then went back to holding the keyboard steady. 

"I was thinking more along the lines of the other monsters in there," Ron continued. "There's stuff in there that'd swallow you whole."

"Spiders," was all that Arthur said and in an instant Ron jumped, his arms jerking so violently that he sent keys flying in every direction. 

"Where?" he yelled, looking around, his voice taking on a pitch that Hermione hadn't heard since its regular bouts of cracking in their fifth year.

Arthur was beside himself laughing as he and Ron, who was looking rather pale, stood in a shower of keys.

"Not here," Arthur sputtered, still laughing. "In the Forbidden Forest. You know, the _Acromantulas_ you're always going on about. Although," he continued teasingly, "they still haven't confirmed that rumor."

"I know what I saw," Ron said flatly. His father's joke was lost on him. Hermione was astonished that, after all they had been through, Ron could still be so afraid of spiders.

As they both knelt on the floor picking up keys, Arthur paused, turned to Ron and said, "You know, you're doing a great job out there."

"Well, we're trying. I just don't think we can ever be completely hidden like before." Ron and his father were now arranging the keys on the table. "And I've been thinking," he said becoming more serious. "Not that the Minister wants my advice," he grinned at his father, "but, I reckon maybe we shouldn't."

Arthur was regarding his son with a look of deep pride on his face. "Ron, I couldn't agree with you more. It's probably the wisest advice I've received in a while." He patted his son on the back, and Hermione could see the familiar shade of pink creep onto the tips of Ron's ears.

The men stood in silence and Hermione waited a few seconds before popping her head in the doorway to call them to supper. 

"Nice job you two did on that computer," Hermione grinned up at Ron. "How soon will it be before you enchant it to fly?" 

Ron grinned, giving her a kiss on the top of her head as they followed Arthur into the house. Hermione smiled and gently, without Ron even noticing, brushed a spider off of his shoulder. 

~*~*~*~

Molly, Ginny, the twins, Lee Jordan, and Remus were all at the table. Fred and George were already eating. Ron sat down beside George, who was busy shoveling potatoes into his mouth.

"Nice of you to wait," Ron said, grabbing a basket of rolls from Fred's clutches. "I hope there's something left for those of us that actually, you know, _work_ for a living." 

"Oh, so sorry, Mr. Important-Ministry-Worker-Type," Fred said as George sniggered. "Shall I shine your _badge_ for you?" 

"I don't have a badge," Ron said through gritted teeth. He was glaring across the table at Fred. "It's an I.D., is all." 

"Prefect badge, Ministry I.D.," George shrugged. " I see no difference." 

"_Head Boy badge_," Ginny added in a whiny, teasing voice . 

"That's enough," Molly said, her eyes on Ron, who was now a deep shade of crimson. "Time to change the subject." 

"So how is the joke business coming along?" Hermione asked, obeying Molly's command.

George jumped on the question. "We finalize the paperwork tomorrow and then it's official." He was beaming. "Weasleys Wizard Wheezes will be open for business." 

"Just as soon as we set up the shop," Fred added, "and people come out of hiding and come back to Hogsmeade."

"They will," said Arthur reassuringly. "Old Mundungus Fletcher has already moved back into his cottage as well as several others. He told me Rosmerta said the pub will be ready for business in a week's time."

"And where there's Butterbeer, there's friends and fun!" Ginny rattled off as if she were Barney the Bat.

"Ginny!" Molly exclaimed.

"She's right, Molly," Arthur said, smiling at his daughter. Then turning to the twins he said, "I have to say though, that as much as I'm sure you two will be successful, I'm going to miss old Zonko's."

"Oh, and I'm sure it missed you," Molly said to her husband. "Never sold as many Dungbombs after you left Hogwarts. That is," she glared at the twins, but her eyes held the hint of a smile, "until this lot arrived." 

Fred took on a wistful look, as though remembering something wonderful and said, "Ah yes, our motto, When all else at Hogwarts fails' "

" use a Dungbomb!' " George finished for him. 

"Now, if we could only get some free advertising," Fred said, turning to look at Lee.

"What do you want from me? I announce Quidditch on the WWN, I don't own the station."

"Work your magic, my friend. You can do it." Fred was serious. Hermione thought back to their days at Hogwarts when Lee announced the Quidditch matches. He had been anything but objective. She figured he would have no problem inserting Weasleys Wizard Wheezes into his play-by-play and she had no doubts that he would.

"You know," interrupted Ron. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Hogsmeade still isn't completely unplotted. And the anti-Muggle charms haven't-"

"Been restored to full capacity," Lee finished, as he and the rest of the table, including Hermione -who turned her head away from Ron - rolled their eyes. "You're low on wizard-power and it could take months, maybe a year before every spell is back up to speed and until then, Muggles may wander in and out," he finished. "Ron, you are the Master of the Unplot, a genius of wizard geography and we in the wizarding community bow before your awesome powers." Fred and George were falling out of their chairs laughing. 

"He forgot Emperor of the Orb," Ginny whispered to Hermione, who promptly snorted her drink into her nose.

"Lee, I think you've been spending too much time here," Arthur laughed. 

Ron scowled as he continued to eat his turkey, but he grinned slightly when Hermione squeezed his knee under the table. 

"The meal is delicious as usual, Molly."

"Thank you, Remus. It's nice to have _someone _here who appreciates what I do." 

"Sirius, of course, sends his regrets. He's off on business." Remus sounded sad, and as he spoke, eight pairs of eyes including his own, immediately darted to the empty place set next to Ginny. Hermione knew as well as everyone else that Sirius was looking for Harry. And like everyone else, she hoped this would be the time he would find him.

For several minutes, the clanking of their forks and knives was the only sound in the house until Pig swooped in through an open window and dropped what looked like a dead mouse into Hermione's lap. She shrieked and tried to move out of its way, but she wasn't quick enough. She fell off her chair onto the floor as the mouse hit her lap, exploding. The kitchen was showered colorful sparks, streamers, confetti, and rainbow-colored candies.

"Mouse Missles," grinned Fred.

"Brilliant," Ron said, helping Hermione up from the floor. 


	3. Chapter Two: Glimpses of Books and Cover...

**Foreseeing Fate**

**A Harry Potter Fanfiction   
by ****Moey**

Also archived at The Sugar Quill

~*~*~*~

Author's Note: Special thanks go to Cap'n Kathy (AKA Elanor Gamgee) for her help with the book titles (she came up with the best ones) and for letting me borrow 'Aura Libris' - go read her story - Not So Bad After All - it's awesome. To my wonderful beta readers - you guys ROX!  Also, to Jedi Boadicea, a big thanks for asking me to be a part of her Yahoo Group.  Join us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Weird_Sisters     J

Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling. Who would want it any other way?

~*~*~*~

**Chapter Two: Glimpses of Books and Covers**

_Reed eek of Joseph, and ther shul ye see_

_Wher dremes ben somtyme (I sey nat alle)_

_Warning of thinges that shul after falle._

_~From the Nun's Priest's Tale by Geoffrey Chaucer_

Ginny sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, taking a moment to rest before plunging back into her research.  She didn't know what was worse, studying for a full set of N.E.W.T.s or only having a few along with the paper.  McGonagall had decided that they needed something to make up for the lack in end-of-year tests. How nice for Ginny and her remaining classmates that Minerva had thoughtfully added a research paper - twenty whole rolls of parchment!  As if they hadn't been through enough.  The war had left Hogwarts closed for almost a year and many of the former classes were still not being taught.  As it was, she was finishing with only the core classes in her last term. Not that it mattered.  She and most of her classmates had learned things by trial and error, out in the real world.  Ginny shook her head.  She didn't want to revisit those memories. Not right now.   

But it was too late.  Visions of the last moments before the end swirled around inside her head.  Fallen classmates and teachers strewn against a backdrop of crumbled brick and mortar.  And just like every other time that her memory traveled back to the not-so-distant past, it stopped on Harry.  

That night.  It had been the beginning and the end.  A beautiful memory and a horrible nightmare all at once.

It had been innocent and wonderful; they had talked in the common room for hours about nothing in particular.  It was late and the common room was empty of anyone but them.  She'd known that Harry hadn't been sleeping much during that time, and usually Ron and Hermione were there, keeping him company.  But that evening had been one of their _library nights and Ginny, having long overcome her self-consciousness around Harry, made herself at home next to him on the couch in front of the common room fire.  They had become good friends over the last few years, and up until that night Ginny had been sure that she had her feelings in check._

They had been laughing over a shared joke - a joke she could no longer recall.  What she did remember was how his hand kept brushing against hers.  How he had seemed to move closer to her on the couch.  When he laughed, he had leaned into her, and when Harry Potter had turned his head to smile at her, she'd known what she had to do.  The kiss had been wonderful, brilliant. She didn't care that she had initiated it. She just knew how right it felt; she knew that he hadn't stopped her.  

Ginny couldn't say when his glasses had come off or which one of them had removed them.  She remembered that he had looked so different without them.  His face had seemed younger, almost free from worry.  Almost.

That night was one she would never forget.  That was the night that changed all of their lives forever. 

Ginny sat quiet and still for a moment, waiting for her head to clear.  It didn't do to dwell.  Sighing, she sifted through the books and parchments piled around her, feeling around for something in particular.  It was a large package wrapped in crisp paper that had been delivered that morning.  Turning  it over in her fingers, she felt the large, wax seal.  She had seen it enough times to know what it was just by touch - the official seal of the London Magical Library - the letters LML in large, gothic print surrounded by a ring of laurel leaves.  Hermione had sent the material to her by owl not long after she had left for work in the morning; Ginny had almost forgotten about it.  She found and opened the accompanying letter, which Hermione had charmed to read itself out loud.  Ginny smiled as she heard her friend's voice...

_Dear Ginny,_

_I was able to find several texts that I think will be essential to your research and sent them out first thing this morning.  I know you are eager to get your paper done and I didn't want you to have to wait until tonight for them.  I also happened upon the last one while reorganizing some of the collections in storage.  (Honestly, you wouldn't believe the mess!  You would have thought the boys worked there.)  Anyway, I hope you find it interesting.  It's the journal of an Ancient Muggle named Joseph.  He was a holy man and a prophet.  Let me know if it proves helpful._

_I do hope you find the books useful.  The Hogwarts Library is still one of the finest, but I know how helpful it would have been to have access to other resources when I was there.  I'm still trying to persuade Madam Pince to participate in interlibrary loans - but she's very resistant.  She doesn't want any of her books to leave Hogwarts.  I'm not sure that I blame her, considering what happened.  It's lucky that so many survived.  I'm sure I'll convince her though, as it's in the best interest of the students._

_Let me know if there is anything else you need, or if you need any help.  I'll see you at home._

_Love from,_

_Hermione****_

Ginny put aside the letter, a smile crossing her lips.  Imagine wanting _more books in school!  Only Hermione.  As it was, Ginny hadn't asked for these, Hermione had just taken it upon herself to send them.  However, since many of the books in the Hogwarts library had been stolen or destroyed, good resources were hard to come by.  Besides, since Hogwarts wasn't open, she didn't have anything at the ready.  Madam Pince was wonderful, owling her whatever she needed, but Ginny wasn't going to complain about the unsolicited help that Hermione offered. _

Classes still were not being held at Hogwarts.  The staff was minimal, and the students willing to return were few.  Some teachers had fallen during the war; others had retired, desperately in need of quiet after the events of the past year.  The same held true for the students - many were trying to come to terms with what had happened and few were ready to continue with their normal schooling. The staff that was at Hogwarts was spending much of their time performing Cleaning Charms, taking inventory of everything from the chairs in the common rooms to classroom supplies, and most importantly, reproducing the protective magic around the school and grounds.  

Twice a week, those students from Ginny's year who had decided to continue their lessons met in a room at The Leaky Cauldron with one or more of their professors for lessons.  There were only eight, including Ginny, but she looked forward to the time they spent together.  It felt almost normal as she and her classmates spent time after their lessons walking through Diagon Alley and enjoying an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's.  Almost normal.  

Ginny shook her head clear.  She had to stop dawdling and get to work.  Unwrapping the package, she counted five large books and one smaller one.  Tapping her wand to the covers she said, '_Recitare Titulusi,' and her wand read the titles of the books to her.  There was __If We Knew Now What They Knew Then: 10 Ancient Prophets and How They Could Have Changed the World if the World Hadn't Thought They Were Dingbats, __Violent Visions, __Goggling at Glass: Crystal Gazers of the 20th Century.  Ginny laughed hard when her wand read, __Scrying With Seers by Gilderoy Lockhart.  Sometimes Hermione was really funny.  The last book was small; its pages and cover felt fragile and it smelled musty.  Ginny was almost afraid to touch it, and probably wouldn't have even opened it if she hadn't been positive that it had already been charm-protected from further aging.  _

Carefully she opened the book, and it fell to a page near the end.  Using the Aura Libris Charm,** she quickly found that she didn't understand a word.  It was written in some ancient form of English with a mix of Latin.  She pointed her wand at it muttering, "_Converterious English."  The spell transformed the words into modern English.  _**

Her wand described what must have been a map of Britain.  An ancient map of Britain - she didn't recognize many of the names although some sounded familiar.  It continued reading,  describing a particular area that was detailed on the map: Glastonbury.  Now Glastonbury she was familiar with.  She and her family had visited the town and famous abbey there when she was younger.  Fred and George had complained how boring it was, Ron had been very interested in the grave of King Arthur, and their father had gone on about how their ancestors were originally from Glastonbury.  She remembered the moans and eye rolling that went along with this particular story.  All the Weasley children had heard, no less than a thousand times, about the Muggle persecution and how all wizards, including their ancestors, had been forced into hiding.  That was when some ancient Weasley relations had left Glastonbury.  Blah, blah, blah.  Her father could go on and on.  

Well, it probably wasn't going to be any use to her, but she made a mental note to tell Hermione to show it to Ron.  He might be interested in the old maps and the King Arthur references.

She flipped through the book pausing occasionally to listen to bits of the entries.  It seemed that Joseph had traveled extensively and had documented, in detail, the many places he had been.  Ready to put the book aside, she flipped through one last time, landing on the last entry.  Her wand read the short passage aloud: 

_And the Guardians will receive the light and bear the one.  _

Ginny yawned.  Even though Hermione's opinion might differ, Ginny knew that not every book could be helpful. 

She placed the book off to the side, grabbed another text, picked up her wand and began listening to - "Lockhart?" she burst out loud to no one.

~*~

Ron came into the flat, dropped his bag next to the door, and threw his Ministry ID badges on the table.  As he walked over to the couch and flopped down he heard noises from the kitchen.  

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Just checking."

Not that he wasn't happy that Hermione was there, he was.  But one of these days he hoped that it would be Harry instead.  

He and Harry had taken the flat last fall, and Ron had hoped it would help lift Harry out of his funk.  In school they had often talked of taking a flat in London, about the jobs they would have, about what they would do out on their own; and that September, after the end of their last year at Hogwarts, after the end of Voldemort, they had moved out of the Burrow and into the small, two-bedroom flat.  Ron had been excited but Harry had been indifferent.  He'd been more and more withdrawn since the end, putting more and more space between himself and his loved ones.  Shortly after they had moved in, Harry had taken a runner and fallen off the face of the earth.  No one had heard from him in over six months.  Ron's emotions were constantly rotating from hurt and frustration to a powerful anger that hurt his stomach. Potter was giving him an ulcer and not even Pomfrey's Powerful Peptic Potion was making it feel better.

He laid back on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table, but as he did so he knocked off a stack of books that was piled not only way too high, but precariously close to the edge.  He reached down, muttering to himself about librarians who bring their work home with them, when he picked up a small, blue, innocent looking book.  

As soon as he touched it, he cursed and let go, as if it had burned his hand, dropping it onto the table.  Ron knew immediately that he wasn't interested in any story _that book had to tell.   Hermione had heard the racket and came into the room.  "What's the matter?" she asked._

"Nothing," Ron replied, trying to keep his voice steady.  "Is this your book?" he asked, pointing to the small blue one he had dropped at the top of the stack.  "Never mind, stupid question."

"Ha, ha," Hermione responded dully.  "Actually, that's one of the books I lent Ginny.  She said you might be interested in it.  Something about old maps and King Arthur."

"It seems pretty old even for a library book," Ron said, looking but not touching the book.  He couldn't help being a little bit curious.

"It is.  I found it in the basement in a box marked 'special collection'."  Ron watched her face; her eyes sparkled whenever she spoke about books.  "I probably shouldn't have taken it out, but no one will ever know.  It was buried way in the back of the basement.  Anyway, it had something to do with her topic.  It's filled with hand drawings of old maps of England.  She thought you might like to see it.  Why don't you take a look?"  She opened the book, turning pages until she came to a drawing.  "Here," she said, holding it out for him to take but Ron instinctively drew back.

"What's the matter?"  she asked, still holding out the book.  But Ron couldn't help backing away like it contained the plague.  Hermione gave him a confused look then said, "Really it won't bite, I promise.  There's not even anything magical about it. It was written by some ancient Muggle." 

Ron shook his head, not so much in an answer as to clear it.  "No," he answered flatly. That book had something to say all right, but he had no desire to find out what that was.  Bloody stupid things.  Always wanting to talk.

"Fine," said Hermione looking at him like he was going slightly mental.  Placing the book back down on the table, she pulled another book out of her bag and started reading.

Ron resumed his silent meditation, watching Hermione.  He still hadn't told anyone, even though the danger was over – well, except for Harry.  He'd told him during the war, but then it had been because lives were on the line.  It had been necessary and Harry had demanded the entire story. Still, he felt guilty about not having shared it with Hermione and there was no way he could predict her reaction from his morning tea leaves.

The problem was that it was becoming harder and harder to keep it hidden from her.  Lately it had seemed more pronounced, but maybe he was just noticing it more now.  He had had little time to dwell on it before.  Now though, Ron was pretty sure Hermione was starting to notice.  It wasn't unusual for them to finish each other's sentences, but lately Ron had begun to start hers before she did, and she was starting to give him funny looks.

He really had let his defenses slack once Voldemort had been defeated.  Maybe he should just tell everyone.  He thought back to their early schooldays when Hermione had stormed out of Divination, and grinned at the memory.  He had been in such awe of her on that day.  But then he was always in awe of Hermione.

But for all his precognition, he really couldn't be sure how she would react.  He had kept the secret for so long.  Now, however, it was different.  Before he had been in danger and he would have endangered the lives of anyone who knew.  Now he was just hiding something.  Something that was becoming more and more difficult to conceal.

So what would he tell her?  _How would he tell her?  __Hey, Hermione, you look lovely today.  By the way, you know how you're always teasing me about Divination and my tea leaves? You know that 'Inner Eye' Trelawney was always going on about?  Yeah, well I have it.  You know, I can sense the future, well danger mostly.  I can also see things about a person's past.  Oh, and objects -  they're the best.  I can touch something and if it has any residual spiritual energy, look out, Ron can tell you what happened.  Oh yeah, she'd buy it.  Hermione was sitting across from him still thumbing through her book.  __Argh!  What should I do?  He supposed starting at the beginning was as good as anything.___

It had been their sixth year and he had been the only one of the three of them to continue studying Divination.  Harry and Hermione had tried to convince him what a waste of time it was, that he would be better off taking _anything else, but he had just passed it off as an easy O.W.L and left it at that.  He really wasn't sure himself why he had continued to take it, but it definitely wasn't just the easy O.W.L.  The classroom was hot and stuffy, Parvati and Lavender were annoying, and Trelawney was a flake.  Or at least that's what everyone had believed._

It had been late in his sixth year when Trelawney approached him.  It was a particularly warm afternoon in April, which meant that the temperature in Professor Trelawney's classroom in the North Tower was unbearable.  Ron was pretty sure he had dozed off during the lesson on Mediums, because  he suddenly realized that he was the only person left in the classroom.  He gathered his books and was just about to go through the trap door when Professor Trelawney appeared out of a shadow.  

"Ronald, may I have a word with you?"  she asked, startling Ron, not with the question but with her voice.  It was not the soft, misty voice Ron had been accustomed to associating with his Divination teacher.  It was a strong, forthright sounding voice.  His jaw dropped and he stood there looking confused.  She sounded _normal._

"Ronald, I asked you a question," she stated, still using the new voice.  "Never mind, it's a silly question because," and here she went back to her flighty voice, "I already know the answer."  She grinned mischievously at him, but all he could do was stare back in astonishment.

"Come Ronald, have a seat."  She pointed to one of the overstuffed chairs next to hers at the front of the room.  Ron hesitated a moment then crossed the room and sat down.

"I'm just going to get right to the point," she began, "and tell you that I've been observing you since you first started this class three years ago."  Ron still stared at her unbelievingly.  He really couldn't get past the voice.

"I've been taking note of all your predictions from assignments, what you've seen in the orb, and in the teacup - although, I have to tell you," she chuckled, "I don't put all that much stock in tea leaves.  But," she shrugged, "others seem to think them useful so I teach them."  With this Ron could no longer contain himself.  

"What is going on?  Why are you talking funny?  And what happened to your voice?"  Ron was incredulous.  "What do you _mean you've been __observing me?" He blurted it all out, practically shouting the last part.  Then, as if suddenly remembering himself, he added, "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout, it's just, well - I'm confused.  Why me?"_

Professor Trelawney smiled at him and patted his arm reassuringly.  "Ever since you came into my classroom, I knew.  You see, I'm what is called an Auric Visionary.  I can see and read peoples' auras.  Yours just screamed at me that you had _the gift."   _

"The _gift?  What gift?" Ron said sounding with complete disbelief.  "You've got the wrong person.  I don't have any __gifts."  Ron had truly believed that too.  He was certain that he was just an average wizard with average wizard abilities.  He may have found himself in extraordinary situations, but they were a knut a dozen those days.  _

After giving what she'd said some serious thought he said, "Maybe I was standing too close to Lavender or Parvati."

"A typical Ronald Weasley answer," she said laughing.  "But please, those two?  Nice girls, but they are only good at interpreting the signs from a book.  True Seers, Ronald, are very rare."  Professor Trelawney looked extremely serious, especially since she had taken off her ridiculously oversized glasses and headwrap.  "No, I can _see it, and it's just as apparent now as it was three years ago - maybe even more so."  Then her voice took on a much more serious note.  "You know about it, Ronald.  You cannot honestly say that this is a surprise to you."_

He didn't raise his eyes to meet hers. He just sat and stared at a spot where a button was missing from his robes.  _How did she know?  What was going on?  Even more importantly- __could she help him sort things out?  He took his time answering.  He felt a breeze flowing through the room and the air felt less stuffy.  __She must have opened a window.  Ron looked up and stared out at the cloudless sky.__  He had no idea what to say.__  He just kept wondering how she__ knew._

After a long period of silence, he took a deep breath, looked up at her and spoke, "What do I do?"

That was the beginning of his mentor relationship with Sybil Trelawney.  During those last years of school, no one really noticed that he was gone for long periods of time, or that he spent this time up in the North Tower.  Harry and Hermione had both on occasion asked where he was, to which he would shrug and say, "Just hanging around."  He figured that most of the time everyone thought that he was just going about his prefect duties or off making up new Quidditch plays. 

That was also the day he had learned to keep his _gift a secret.  Not that he hadn't been doing so already.  However, now the reasons for hiding it were completely different.  Once he became aware of the danger he was in, he became even more guarded.  _

Professor Trelawney did not put on the 'crazy fortune teller' act for nothing.  There were several reasons, which she explained in detail to him.  First, and most importantly was Voldemort.  He had sought out Seers during his last reign and now that he was gaining power again, it was even more important that they keep their gifts secret.  When Ron had pointed out that her teaching Divination at Hogwarts was not exactly a secret, she told him that was the reason she continued using the persona she had created, not why or how it had started. Ron soon found out that Sybil Trelawney and Tom Riddle had attended Hogwarts together and that she knew he was Voldemort.  Luckily, in school, she had put on the 'crazy fortune teller' act to make a joke out of it.  However, the one thing she was never able to completely control was her channeling abilities and, on occasion, she would fall into a trance without warning.  Riddle had been witness to one during their school years.  She only hoped that he had long forgotten it, and that he still remembered her as the flighty Gryffindor he'd thought she was then.

Another reason for the act was simply that Sybil Trelawney had a brilliant sense of humor.  It really had all begun as a childhood prank, but early on, she learned of the danger surrounding her gift, so she continued the act, dressing and acting the part of the flighty fortune teller. She even admitted to stifling a laugh that time during his fourth year when he had made the Uranus joke to Lavender.  Ron had vaguely remembered it, but he couldn't help but start to warm up to her after she admitted finding him funny.  When he had asked her why, if she had found it so funny, had she given them extra homework, she replied, "Well it may have been funny, but it still was not appropriate.  I couldn't have the class thinking that I was a complete pushover."

After their first meeting, Divination was that much more bearable for Ron.  Until, of course, his last year at Hogwarts when it was canceled.  Professor Trelawney went missing after the Christmas holiday and Ron had neither seen nor heard from her again.  He didn't like to think about what Voldemort had done.  It was then that Ron really realized and understood the danger Trelawney had told him came with the gift.

He sat staring at the book on the table.  Whatever it was going to tell him, it was going to do it one way or another.  It might as well be now.  Slowly, he reached for the book and as soon as he placed his hand on the cover the images began.  He saw knights on horseback, battles, women running, a king being crowned.  Then suddenly, something happened that had never happened before - he began to see images of what could only be the future.  Not only that, the visions were of himself and Hermione, Harry and Ginny.  

Panicked, Ron stood up and practically threw the book across the room.  Shaking, with temples throbbing, he stood in shock, sweat running down his face.  He felt as though he was going to throw up.  Hermione ran from her chair to his side, taking his hand and gently smoothing the sweat-drenched hair from his forehead.  "Ron, what is it?  What's the matter?" She sounded frightened.  "Sit down," she said as she eased him back onto the couch. 

Ron sat, and slowly he lifted his head to meet her eyes.  Still shaking, he blinked back tears and said, "Hermione, I have something I need to tell you…"


	4. Chapter Three: Seen It All Before

**Foreseeing Fate**

**A Harry Potter Fanfiction   
by Moey**

~*~*~*~

Dedication:  To all the librarians.  Thanks.  

Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling. Who would want it any other way?

~*~*~*~

**Chapter Three:  Seen It All Before**

_"Like a castle in his corner_

_in__ a medieval game,_

_I foresee terrible trouble_

_and__ I stay here just the same._

_~Steely Dan, Dirty Work_

"Mr. Weasley!"

Ron sighed, dropped his shoulders, but didn't turn around.  "Dennis, I bloody swear if you keep calling me that I'm going to hex you."  Ron knew that this was a running joke between Dennis Creevey and himself, but today he wasn't exactly in the mood.  They were under extreme pressure to have a large area of the Forbidden Forest secured by the week's end and they were now only finishing up with the basic spellwork foundations.

"Sorry, Ron," Dennis replied.  "I just wanted to tell you that MacMillan in the south section and Jamison in the north are finished casting the Celo spells."

"Thanks."  Ron watched as Dennis walked away.  When he had accepted this position with the Ministry's Division of Magical Mapping he'd had no idea that he was going to be in charge of fifteen workers and the enormous task of Unplotting the whole Forbidden Forest.

It was a hell of a lot more responsibility than he had ever wanted.  Not to mention that the Forbidden Forest still, to this day, creeped him out.  He'd had way too many unsettling experiences there, and a few weeks ago when they had come across the moss-covered shell of his father's old Ford Anglia, flashbacks of the Acromantula had haunted him for days.  

He had a staff of fifteen and he had to secure an area bigger than most Muggles thought Scotland was in its entirety. And now, as if he didn't have enough to worry about, Hermione had to go and show him that stupid, _stupid, bloody book.  _

"All right, guys.  Go home," Ron stuck his scrolls into his robes and was about to Apparate home when Dennis said something – well, he almost said something.  Ron cut him off before he even began.  "Yeah, Dennis.  Same area tomorrow." 

"But-" Dennis began but wasn't allowed to finish.

"I want to put those extra Praesidium spells along this edge.  It's too close to Muggles to leave it with just the basics."

"How do you always-" 

"Inner Eye," Ron finished just as he Apparated away.  

~*~

Hermione sighed as she surveyed what was before her.  Shelf after shelf was piled to the ceiling with boxes and books, parchments and scrolls.  Every nook and cranny was stuffed to the brim with something.   As she glanced around she became even surer that an Enlargement Charm had been performed.  She was certain that the entire library wasn't this big, let alone the basement storage area.  The stacks seemed to go on forever.  It was the same upstairs.  People were always getting lost.  The old cliché really took on new meaning at London's Magical Library.

She was currently in the library's basement trying to decide where it would be best to begin the task of sorting through the mess.  Having been closed for nearly two years, the library was operating on a skeleton crew since the end of the war.  On first glance it seemed that the previous archivist could not part with anything, and it that first impression was reaffirmed as Hermione sifted through the first box she came across.  It was marked 'Uric the Oddball.'  It contained, among other things, notes from his biographer, a monkey fur cape, a zebra skin rug, and a few journals.  The last object she pulled from the box was the molding pelt of a badger, which, when Hermione poked it with her wand, produced a swarm of moths.  She quickly magicked it into the dustbin and performed a spell to dispose of the moths.  

Brushing off her hands and wrinkling her nose – monkey fur did _not age well - she began to momentarily reassess her career choice.    The end was literally not in sight.  And speaking of sight…did he really think he could keep a thing like that to himself?_

No way.  And he couldn't pull on her sympathies any longer.  She understood it was hard to talk about – but this was her.  They told each other everything.  They always had.  

Hermione started rummaging through a different box.  There was no mistaking the smell in there.  When she pulled up a mud-caked, grass-stained, bright orange Quidditch robe she wasn't surprised.  The box was marked 'CC 1892' and smelled like a locker room.  Ron would love it.

She wondered if he knew when – or if – the Cannons would ever have a winning season again.  Maybe there was more to his fanaticism than sheer insanity.  

Well tonight she'd find out.  No more "I wasn't ready for talking about this yet."  He should have seen it coming.  

~*~

He was hoping to get home and be able to lie down on the couch for a nap - preferably not waking up until sometime next Tuesday.  He and Hermione had had a bit of a row over his failure to tell her about his abilities the night before and he hadn't gotten enough sleep.  Although he had explained the reasons _why he hadn't told her, she was upset that he hadn't mentioned anything since the end of the war.  He just hadn't ever felt like it was the right time.  Really, he just wanted to forget about it altogether. Not talking about it seemed the best way to go about that.  _

And it had worked - for a little while anyway.  He still knew things, _saw things - but nothing he couldn't control.  Nothing that he couldn't ignore.  Until the book.  _

All he wanted to do was sleep...

"We need to talk."

For the bleeding love, she wants to fight, he thought.  For once he didn't feel up to it.   "Hermione, not now.  I just want to get some sleep-"

"No, Ron.  _Now."_

"Fine."

"Why did you never tell me?"  She looked sad.

"I already told you. It would have just put you in more danger than you already were in." He walked over to the couch and fell onto it, leaning back and throwing his arm over his head.  "The Death Eaters were _looking for Seers. I wasn't about to announce it." He moved his arm away and looked up at her. "I mean, look at what happened to Trelawney and her family. I didn't want that to happen to you, or anyone else."_

She didn't respond.  Instead she just stood there staring at him.  He didn't know what else to say.

Hermione sat down next to Ron and rested her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her, pulling her close, putting his face in her hair.  It was all true, what he'd said.  If anything had happened to anyone, because of what he was - he didn't like to think about it. But if something had happened to Hermione - that just made him feel sick. 

He squeezed her harder and she looked up at him.  

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.  But, I just - it's just," she stammered.

"I know. We've told each other everything since we were eleven. I didn't _want to hide it from you. I __had to."_

 She looked up at him and he put his hand on her cheek.  "I wanted to tell you."  His lips were barely touching hers. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. _This was why he hadn't said anything about his power.  __This was why he hadn't told her anything.  He couldn't lie. This was the main reason he had done everything the way he had. He wanted __this to continue and progress.   _

 He wanted to be with Hermione.

She curled up against him, burrowing her face into his chest.  Ron pulled her close so that she was stretched out on his lap, and she slowly drifted off to sleep. 

Ron tried to sleep, but as much as he loved being with Hermione he couldn't get comfortable on the couch with her.  His legs didn't fit anywhere and he was starting to get a cramp.  He thought of putting her in Harry's room - it wasn't as if he would be home anytime soon - but it was a complete mess and Ron didn't feel like straightening it.  He also didn't feel like touching anything in it.  Like if he left it exactly as it was, Harry would Apparate in and everything would be back to normal again.  

He lifted Hermione up and carried her into his own room. Laying her down on his bed, Ron covered her with the quilt and took a step back, watching her. She was beautiful.

Hermione was all of his reasons wrapped into one.  She _was his reason. _

Ron walked out of the room into his living room, making himself comfortable on the couch.  The book was there, on the coffee table, staring at him.  Wanting to talk.  But there was no way he wanted to hear any of that now.  No way.  Turning away from the book, Ron made himself as comfortable as he could and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. 

He was standing at the edge of a lake.  It was almost dawn; a thin sliver of sunlight shone through the early morning mist to his left.  In front of him the fog was extremely thick across the lake.  It wasn't really fog at all.  Just darkness.  He wondered what was there.  There had to be something over there.

He turned to his right and started walking along the water's edge, stopping once to pick up a stone.  He threw the stone skillfully over the water and it skipped four times before penetrating the lake's glassy surface.  The sun was higher along the horizon now and the fog was beginning to lift.  A fine haze was left all around him.  Everywhere but across the lake.  There it remained so dense it didn't seem as though the sun could penetrate it.  

He continued walking, following the shoreline.  Except for the birdsongs, it was unnaturally quiet.  There wasn't even a breeze, and nothing except the stone he had thrown earlier disturbed the water's surface.  It was an unnerving quiet.  He was glad it was morning and that he had hours of daylight ahead of him.   

He had gone quite a way before noticing what had appeared above the tree line just ahead of him of in the distance.  Mountains.  No.  What were they called?  He'd seen this before but he couldn't remember when.  The Tor.  Had he been here before?

Just then to his right a flock of birds took off from the trees, momentarily covering the sky before circling round and disappearing into the darkness to his left.  The noise startled him, but after the initial shock he felt it a welcome relief from the eerie silence that had surrounded him only seconds before.  But when the noise of the flock faded it wasn't replaced by the previous quiet.  The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end and his mouth suddenly went dry.  Behind him he heard a pounding.  If he had ever heard the sound of a thousand horses thundering toward him, he would say that this sounded exactly like that.  

Whatever it was it was getting closer.  He stood rooted to the spot until he heard a battle cry.  He looked over his right shoulder carefully and saw them.   Warriors.  Thousands of them on foot and horseback.  Automatically he went for his wand.  It wasn't there.  There was a sword.  Where had that come from?  

He couldn't remember exactly when he started to run, but he was thankful that his body had taken over because his mind was too busy being terrified to think properly.  There was no reason to believe that they were coming after him, but they certainly weren't going to go around him.  He looked back over his shoulder again, not slowing his furious pace.  They were gaining.  His only out was the lake and up ahead was a small dock.  He was a good swimmer, he could make it.  

He made it on to the dock just as a small ferry appeared.  A shrouded figure stood at the bow beckoning to him.  He looked back again and the warriors were gaining and it did appear that they were after him.  The ferry was still a good ten yards out.  He'd have to jump.  Why were angry men with swords chasing him?  

And why did this all seem so familiar?

With a running leap he jumped for the boat but he realized he wasn't going to make it.  He prepared to hit the water with a—

Thud?

"Oh, bloody hell."  Ron opened his eyes.  He was face down on the floor next to the couch.  He stayed there for a few minutes before pushing himself up.  He had only lifted his head an inch off the floor when he saw it.  "You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?  I'm having dreams about medieval madmen and I know it's your fault."  

Ron sighed and stood up.  He looked into his bedroom, but Hermione had already left.  Looking back down at the book he resigned himself.  He'd talk to the stupid book.  Then maybe he'd go crazy and they'd send him to St. Mungo's.  He was looking forward to a good night's sleep in a bed for once, and he'd settle for a padded cell. 


	5. Chapter Four: Should Have Seen It Coming

**Foreseeing Fate**  
A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Moey

~*~

Author's Notes:  This story has taken a very different turn than what I had originally thought.  Thanks to Arabella for kixing my butt last night.  Maybe I'll finish before June 21st after all.  ;alskjdf;laskjl;asdjl;askdfj

Disclaimer: Harry Potter et al belong to the wonderfully talented J. K. Rowling. Who would want it any other way? 

~*~

**Chapter Four: Should Have Seen It Coming**

_And down the river's dim expanse  
Like some bold seer in a trance,  
Seeing all his own mischance--  
With a glassy countenance  
Did she look to Camelot.  
And at the closing of the day  
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;  
The broad stream bore her far away,  
The Lady of Shalott_  
~The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Lord Tennyson

~*~

She really was the cleverest person he knew, but the more he thought about it, the more Ron wondered how she hadn't worked it out.  She _saw_ him looking at his tea leaves every morning.  But in fairness, that was more of a habit really -  a habit developed purely to annoy her - they weren't reliable.  Although, sometimes they could tell you whether or not it would be a smart thing to go back to bed.  Ron laughed to himself.  He hardly needed tealeaves to tell him that on most days; it had been his experience that most days weren't worth the effort it took to get out of bed. 

Of course sleeping alone didn't exactly give him a reason to stay in bed either.  

Ron shook his head to rid himself of the thought of Hermione asleep.  In his bed.  Without him. _Damn._

Hermione.  She was hurt and angry that he hadn't confided in her.  But what was he supposed to do?  Put her in even more danger?  After almost nine years she was still a complete mystery at times.  He wondered why she'd never cottoned on and then settled for what he had always thought in the first place - Hermione hadn't really ever _wanted_ to know.  Not since she left Trelawney's class in a huff during their third year.  He smiled at the memory of Hermione Granger walking out of a class - she had made him very proud that day.

But there were lots of reasons, a lot of strange instances that gave him away over the years. But the thing that really baffled him, the one thing he always thought should have put up some sort of warning flag for her was that he had showed up at her parents' house just before the group of Death Eaters had arrived to demolish it and do who knows what to her parents. 

Come to think of it, these things didn't put him in the best light.  It was no wonder he had often been accused of being a Death Eater spy. 

During their seventh year, Voldemort had caught on.  He had caught on to how hard Harry had taken the deaths, and sorted out who was the closest to him.  Still not able to get into Hogwarts, he went after those who weren't there.  Hermione's parents, being Muggles had been among his first targets.

Ron hadn't been looking into his teacup or a crystal ball when he saw it.  He rarely used those mediums, relying instead on his mind to be able to sort and shape the images.  The images that were always there.  You had to know how to tune them in, how to focus on the important ones.  

It wasn't that he saw _the_ future exactly.  Actually, he saw several.  Seeing was the easy part; actually picking out the one that would happen - _that_ was the trick.  The possibilities of what _could_ happen were infinite.  It was hard as hell to sort out what you were seeing, let alone decide if what you were seeing was of any importance.  However, sometimes the important visions came to find you.

Ron had learnt quickly how to call up the visions as well as how to suppress them.  Knowing whether or not Snape would take ten points from Gryffindor or what they were having for lunch weren't very important.  He practiced with those sorts of things, but they never just popped into his head.  But when something was so close to you, or close to someone you loved, you just couldn't suppress it.  It smacked you in the head to get your attention.  That's what had happened that night.

Ron hadn't even been sure that he was right about Hermione's parents, but it wasn't worth the self-doubt.  That night, most of the Gryffindors were sitting in the common room doing homework.  Hermione and Harry had been in their usual spots by the fire.  Harry looking miserable and Hermione almost hidden behind a stack of books.  _N.E.W.T.s are almost here!  I'm so behind!_  Ron could still hear the panic in her voice.  He had been having a lie down in the dorm, something he usually did after his lessons with Trelawney.  Except that she was gone and he hadn't been practicing as much.  And since he hadn't been practicing it resulted in a spectacular headache and lying down was the only thing for it.  Just lie down and focus.  Neville had been in the dorm that night.  He wished he'd been nicer to him.  Ron winced at how he'd treated Neville - like the annoying younger brother he never had; the one he himself had been.  Ron just hoped that Neville realized how much he really cared.

Once Neville had left he'd been able to concentrate, to really see.  That's when he saw Hermione's parents.  He saw what could have happened to them - what _would_ have happened.  He'd made it there just in time.  You couldn't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, but some of the Chimneys were connected to the Floo Network and his father had connected the Grangers to the Network years ago.  His only problem had been getting the Floo powder.  

Then he remembered that Hermione had some…

They'd used it to see Sirius.  And to go to the Shrieking Shack.

Ron had run down the staircase through the common room and back up the girls' staircase.  Luckily, neither Parvati nor Lavender had been in the room at the time because he hadn't had much time, let alone the time to spare dealing with the uproar he would have got from them for barging in.

Ron sat back in his chair at his desk in the Ministry's main building; magical maps and reports hid the surface.  He had just returned from the field and should have been working on some of the reports, except…

Except he couldn't think or focus.  It was that bloody book.  It had everything all screwed up.  

There was nothing else for it; he'd have to listen to the book. The pull of some things was just too strong to ignore.  First checking that his office door was locked, Ron cleared a space off on his desk and reached down inside his satchel, pulling out the book.  The visions started almost at once, swimming past.  He concentrated hard to control them.  

It was the map.  He went through the book several times more and the map always called him back.  Glastonbury.  He'd been there before – on a family trip.  Growing up, his father had told them all the stories about King Arthur and his knights, and Ron still loved them.  Well not the romance part – that he'd never understood.  How could she be so wishy-washy?  And how could that nancy-boy Lancelot even think of taking his best mate's girl?  Rubbish.

The parts that had always intrigued him were the battles, in particular the final one where King Arthur had been killed by his own son, and then taken to the Isle of Avalon to await the day he would again be called to service.  The Once and Future King.  That's what he was called – in both the wizarding and the Muggle world.  

Hermione had once given him some Muggle books on the subject. Their myth was almost exactly the same as the wizard myth, the main difference being that the wizards emphasized that the wizards and witches on Avalon had chosen to hide themselves from the outside world.  Persecution from the church and the demise of Arthur, their one faithful supporter, as well as the disappearance of Merlin had sparked their decision.  It was said that they had taken a lot of the old magic with them that day, and that the wizarding world had lost a great deal.

The one thing that his brain kept telling him was that it was a _myth_.

The book, however, was telling him otherwise.

~*~

"But the Isle of Avalon is myth.  In the wizarding world _and_ the Muggle world."  She knew he was going to be irritated, but she couldn't help it.  It was like she had to say things out loud so that they made sense to her.  Not because she thought he didn't know them.

"Well, could you let the book know, because it won't listen to me," Ron snapped.  "Look, sorry," he said in a more soothing tone, "just come over here.  There's a couple things I need to show you because I need help sorting out what they're telling me."

She took the seat next to him at the table, pushing the remaining supper dishes out of the way.  He placed the book between them and pointed to an old map – of what looked like Britain, but only larger.  

"This map, here.  This is what really wants something."

"What is it a map of?" she asked.

"It's Britain."

"Looks awfully large.  They really had it wrong, didn't they?" 

"No, it's actually really on the mark for it's time.  You're just thinking of Muggle maps.  Remember they don't have the half of Great Britain mapped out since it's all hidden.  Er, was hidden." he continued, "What's really interesting about it though is here."  He pointed to an inset that gave a larger detail of a particular area on the map.

"Glastonbury," Hermione read.  "That's the famous cathedral where King Arthur is supposed to be buried.

"He isn't buried there," Ron added.

"Of course not, he's a myth," she said, rolling her eyes.

"No," Ron said, his tone a bit patronizing.  "Not because he's a myth.  It's because he's _here_."  He pointed to an area just next the Glastonbury Tor.  It read _Avalon_.

"Hermione, it's _not_ a myth.  Look, you yourself said that this Joseph was a Muggle prophet, right?  He's was also supposedly a friend of Arthur's.  I can see it all when I concentrate."  Ron was getting more and more excited and Hermione decided to make a conscious effort not to interrupt him again.  She'd hold off her thoughts until he was through.

"But that isn't the important part right now.  What's important is that I can probably tell you the exact location of the Isle of Avalon."

But Hermione couldn't help herself.  This was too big.  "Are you serious?  Do you know what this could mean?  Ron, there are supposedly ancient secrets that left the wizarding world when those wizards disappeared!  They were known for their healing powers.  The implications on our world could be tremendous!  If it's true, that is." This time she stopped herself before she went any further.  However, her thoughts wouldn't stop.  Could they really work out where Avalon is?  Little had been written down before the coming of the church, and if there was someone there – even if all they had to go on was what had been passed down orally – it could still be preserved!  Her eyes finally focused back on the present and Ron.

"Sorry," she said, with what she knew was a guilty grin.  He was looking at her out of the corner of his eye.  She knew that he could tell that even though she was no longer talking, she was still _talking_.

"Are you sure you're done?" Ron asked, smiling.  Hermione looked from him to the book and noticed that he had turned the page.

"This is the other thing that I can't get away from," he continued.

Hermione pulled the book toward her and studied the picture drawn on the page.  It was of a, well she couldn't really tell.  But whatever it was, it was beautiful.  From the drawings it looked to be woven out metal – mostly gold – and encrusted with jewels that made out the form of a red dragon.

"It's King Arthur's Scabbard," said Ron.  "And according to legend, the person that carried it wouldn't shed any blood as long as he had this with him.  It didn't matter how badly wounded they were."  He bent his head close to Hermione's and looked closely at the picture.  "Supposedly it was made by the Lady of the Lake.  Some wicked protection spells must have been put on it if for a person not to shed any blood."

"But in the legends, Arthur dies," Hermione said, looking up from the book.  

"And guess what he didn't have with him that day?  But look," he continued, drawing her back to the book, "this is the last thing I want to show you."  He pointed to a phrase that was written under the drawing.

_And the Guardians will receive the light and bear the one. _

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.  

"I'm not sure.  It's a translation anyway.  The whole book is written in some ancient language and I had to do the Converterious spell.  But it's more what I see in it."  Ron gingerly touched the writing in the book.

"What do you see, Ron?"  She studied his face.  His eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed.  He didn't look like he was in pain, but he also didn't look as if he was enjoying the experience.

"Well, there's a lot of knights, and battles," started, not opening his eyes, "and just a lot of other probably old, random residuals. But -" he paused for a moment and Hermione watched as the anxiety crept into his already tense face.  She waited for what he was going to tell her next.  Whatever it was, she was sure it was something big. 

Ron opened his eyes and spoke.  "Well, there's you, and me, and Ginny, and-"

"Harry," she finished for him.

"Yeah, Harry."  And with that, Ron pushed the book away from him.  "And whatever it is we have to do, well, it's important and we have to do it.  We _all_ have to do it."  

"How do you know?" she asked.  Ron's whole _Inner Eye_ business was still so new and she wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Well, only really important things jump out at me."  She gave him a look that must have conveyed her confusion because he started again.  "Think of it this way - using your Inner Eye is like doing research.  You have to weed through all the rubbish to find the really important stuff.  But it differs in one big way."

"What's that?"  

"Well, most books don't come and find you." She opened her mouth to contradict him but he beat her to it.  "I said _most_.  Anyway, whatever it is, we all need to do it."  He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.  "And in order to do it-"

"We need to find Harry," she finished.  Ron gave her a look that said it all.  They had no idea where Harry was and didn't even know where to start looking.  

"Can't you, oh, I don't know, grab some of his things and try and see if they tell you where he is?"  Hermione said motioning toward Harry's room.

"Don't you think I've already tried that?"  Ron said, continuing to rub his temples.  "Nothing in there is calling out to me.  And besides, if Potter's knickers wanted to talk, I'm not sure I'd be up for it."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle a little and Ron opened his eyes and sat up, obviously full of himself for getting her to crack.  Seeing this, Hermione immediately became very serious again.  She stood up and grabbed the book in one hand and Ron's hand in the other, pulling him up off the chair. "Come on."

"What?" he asked.  She stuffed the book into her bag and was putting on her cloak.  "No, come on Hermione. I'm tired.  I just want to rest." But he was already putting on his cloak and with a sigh he asked, "Where are we going?"

"To talk to Ginny."

"Why?"

"Because she knows more about where Harry is than she's saying."

"How do you know."

Hermione looked at Ron, tapped her forefinger to her forehead between her eyes and Disapparated.

~*~

The  Pensieve sat on the table.  Touching his wand to his temple, he pulled out a long silvery strand from his own head which he added to the wisps that circled the inside of the basin.  Then, leaning forward until his nose touched the contents, he allowed himself be pulled in.

_She was leaning back on her elbows in the garden under the large willow tree with her legs outstretched.  She wasn't looking at anything in particular and by her expression it seemed that she was just enjoying sitting outside.  But he only had a few seconds to look at her like this because at almost the same instant that he had arrived, she sat up and turned her head._

_"Harry?"_

_She said it softly, almost in a whisper.  He turned to see himself standing there looking dumbfounded._

_"I know you're there."_

_But he didn't answer.  The words – if there even were any - were stuck in his throat._

_She didn't speak again for some time, but when she finally did her voice was no longer soft and gentle.  As a matter of fact, it seemed to take on a very distinct tone.  One he hadn't heard since his second year when Ron had received a howler…_

_"Harry Potter, I've waited.  I've been patient.  I've given you _time._  But if you think I or anyone else is going to wait any longer, think again.  I'm quite certain I know where you spend a great deal of your time and if you don't come back on your own, I'll send someone for you."  She was standing now with her arms crossed.  Looking directly at him.  And he was pretty certain she was looking at both of him this time._

_"Stop being ridiculous and come _home_."___

_And just like the first time he left without saying a word._

Staring into the bowl, he watched as her red hair vanished into the swirling mists.  Tucking his wand back into his robes, he lifted the Pensieve into his satchel.  Harry put the satchel over his arm, looked around at had what once had probably been a _home_, and decided that it was probably time to actually go back to the only home he ever really knew.


End file.
